For last year's birthday I received from a friend a book called the Bothy Bible. It set out for the first time in print all the bothies in Scotland and included a wee bit about each bothy's history and its stories. It really perked my interest in bothies. A lot of outdoor folk bemoaned the book stating that it would make the bothies more accessible which risked misuse and vandalism. But I thought if more people know about bothies then more people will care for them and protect them. Leafing through my book one evening, a bothy caught my eye that I'd heard about in hillwalking circles as something of a legend - the Feith Uaine Bothy. Not that I'd heard it by that name. I'd heard it called its more common name - the Tarf Hotel. Tucked away in the remote hills and high moors near the headwaters of the River Tilt, it's a mini expedition to get there. But I spotted that I could combine a visit to the Tarf Hotel with two equally remote Munros that I hadn't climbed yet. Added to this, it was sure to guarantee some peace and solitude, and an escape from a hot, busy summer at home in the city.
The rough track up Glen Tilt provided a long approach by bicycle in the gathering dusk of a late summer evening. A grassy shelf by the river provided the first night's camp spot. Next morning, with the bike stashed in the woods, I set out on foot up the remainder of the glen. The purples of thyme, foxgloves and heather contrasted with the rich summer greens of the hills. Here and there a dragonfly would zoom past in strong, purposeful flight. Dragonflies enthrall me with their dazzling, ephemeral beauty. They were amongst the first flying insects to evolve 300 million years ago and fossils have indicated that at that time they had a two-foot wingspan. They are such a successful species that they have barely changed since, albeit they got a little smaller!
The Glen Tilt track eventually leaves the river, shoulders the hill and drops on the far side to the Tarf Water. Despite this year's exceptional long, dry spell, l still had to take the boots off to wade across so goodness knows what it's like in spate. It already felt remote and empty here and that feeling was enhanced as I climbed the first Munro, An Sgarsoch, meaning place of sharp rocks. Frustrating, pathless, deep heather lower down gave way to short, springy turf as I climbed that was a joy to walk on. Views opened up to the vast empty lands around me and the seemingly endless layers of hills in every direction. The Cairngorms stretched out to the north, a familiar and unmistakable compass point. In the far distance I could see the deep rock cut of the Window on Creag Meagaidh. And closer at hand were the two other Atholl Munros, Carn a' Chlamain and Beinn Dearg. Nestled down at the foot of these on a green sward where the Feith Uaine burn and the Tarf Water joined together, was the Tarf Hotel, a tiny speck from up here.
There was another Munro to do before I could head to the Bothy, Carn an Fhidhleir, meaning rocky hill of the fiddler, an easy climb from the bealach between it and An Sgarsoch. Then a delightful meandering stream whose u-bends I must have criss-crossed twenty times, provided a route back down to the glen to pick up a path through long summer grasses to the bothy.
The Tarf Hotel is a big bothy with three separate rooms. Nobody else was around or arrived later. Despite the fact that I'd planned to camp again for my second night out, I loved this place so much that I decided to stay. l chose to sleep in the wooden annex whose generous windows looked east back down the glen. The Feith Uaine burn babbled close by and despite its meaning (green river) provided crystal clear drinking water.
The bothy was previously an estate shooting lodge although it's believed it was built from the ruins of a black house dating back to the 1680s. It fell into disuse and dereliction by the 1930s but in 1992 it was taken over and renovated by the Mountain Bothies Association. Its affectionate name of the Tarf Hotel comes from the old, yellow AA "hotel" sign that's been nailed to the door!
It's a place of immense peace and quiet, the only sounds the wind and the water. In the evening I sat with my cuppa on the doorstep as the sun dipped in the west. The air was full of insects and in the sun's low beams they were dancing specks of golden light. Before long the sun dropped behind the hills, casting a chill on the evening air and a grainy, grey light through the night, so characteristic of summer in the hills.
It didn't seem like the sun had been gone for long before it was up again next morning and flooding my room with light from the east. An early room service call to begin the long trek back.
Fact File
Start/finish: Blair Atholl train station
Public transport: Trains between Edinburgh/Glasgow and Inverness stop at Blair Atholl.
My route: I used the folding bike to save having to prebook on the train. Out of the station I turned right on the main road then left after the bridge then left again at a fork for Old Blair. A little way along here the track up Glen Tilt begins on the right beside a lodge house. I camped and stashed the bike at the last of the trees beyond Forest Lodge. Further on the track splits as the glen narrows and I took the left split over to the Tarf Water. Crossed the river here beside a barn and used the riverside track west a little way before ascending the south ridge of An Sgarsoch via Sron na Macranaich. Dropped to the bealach and climbed up the other side to the ridge of Carn an Fhidhleir where there was a path to the top. To descend headed south from the top then dropped down to the Allt a Chaorainn to follow it to where it joined the Tarf Water. I never come across a stream that meanders as much as this one. There was a faint path from here to the bothy requiring the Tarf Water to be crossed again. Returned via the same route.
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